


nothing more, nothing less

by lackingsoy



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Coping, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Post-Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion R2, Soft Boys, Touch-Starved, Trauma, as quiet as it can get with these boys, imagining a quiet life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lackingsoy/pseuds/lackingsoy
Summary: Suzaku didn’t often think of Lelouch like this. Dead. Murdered by his hand. Not anymore, not as much.
Relationships: Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	nothing more, nothing less

**Author's Note:**

> years after zero requiem. they're in their mid-twenties, somewhere in a shared apartment far away from britannia and japan, probably.

Lelouch was talking, saying something distantly cavalier. Suzaku was looking at him, watching his mouth move and not hearing any of it, an image upon another and another. Lelouch, dead; by his hands, fingers around a pale neck; by his swords, the one Lelouch gave him (“What do you think?” Lelouch said, holding it out to him, another Damocles descended from blood and the throne) and the one he kept from his days as a Knight. 

Dead, the way Suzaku supposed anyone else would be; empty depth to his eyes, mouth slack, hair stuck to skin because perhaps he had struggled against it (death or Suzaku) and a sheen of sweat broke out. He must have struggled. Lelouch would have. He fought on nails and needles, biting and savage. Or he wouldn’t have, maybe. Atonement and traps, something like that. 

Suzaku didn’t often think of Lelouch like this. Dead. Murdered by his hand. Not anymore, not as much. He supposed it had something to do with the sick pit in his belly when he woke today, thoughts lingering somewhere in the muddled memories of roses, pinned high over her dress just as it awoke to red. Roses, her favorite thing. He smelled it from his dreams.

Lelouch had stopped talking. Suzaku didn’t notice until he turned his gaze on him. A finely attuned acuity, from Lelouch watching him and him watching Lelouch, from their shared childhood to their traitor-traitor dance to their temporary reign over the world: emperor and knight; demon and demon. And now, just them.

Just Lelouch, focused on Suzaku. 

Lelouch spoke first. “What’s wrong?” The other question was already lodged there, as unspoken as all their other deeds and their miserable consequences. 

He wanted to say nothing, but Lelouch was not stupid and even lies of this caliber were tiresome. They ran that course a long time ago. “A dream.” He said. Suzaku reached a hand up to scrub at his eyes as if to dislodge the memory of it: coming awake cold and sick with himself; the blurry impressions of softness, of an almost certain idealism.

Being crushed with realization, the pin-drop of her fall. So easy. So slow. The way he moved: frozen by split-second disbelief, too far off to do anything but fall in order to follow, and then fall apart. Rage and grief and love and loyalty that moved him like hot, surging waves. Tumbling and colliding, cresting to a hidden point; inescapable.

Eventually, Suzaku looked at Lelouch and caved.

Lelouch’s lips were dry. Suzaku moved against him, teeth on teeth, the knocks of sound harsh and quiet, but not silent. Lelouch pushed carefully at Suzaku’s shoulders with his palms, evening out their alignment. They kissed for a while longer, and longer still, and when Lelouch pulled away, Suzaku did not follow. 

“Euphemia,” he said, hands pliant where they settled along Suzaku’s neck. Lelouch was close now, knees pressed into Suzaku’s thigh. Lelouch's eyes roved across Suzaku’s face, quiet and even, making certain of ambiguities. “Is this about her?”

Suzaku kissed him again, slower. Almost gentle, Suzaku opening his mouth and Lelouch opening his, trying to speak. He wanted to cry. 

He did not say a thing. Lelouch sighed and touched his nose with his own, cold and soft. “I’m here,” he said. Lelouch dropped a hand along his cheek, scooted closer, bent forward into Suzaku’s neck. “Here,” breathed it there on Suzaku’s skin so that it was real enough. 

He did not say a thing, but he clung and heaved, and shook a little through his hands. Lelouch took hold of him and murmured, "Child," and said again that he was not dead, with a shuddering sigh to make it better known. Suzaku pressed closer, burrowed deeper.

“Idiot,” Lelouch told him, not unkindly, and pulled Suzaku down with him.


End file.
